


a beam in darkness: let it grow.

by starsonfire



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, One Shot, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 10:35:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20062609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsonfire/pseuds/starsonfire
Summary: The sound of a ship taking off made Bellamy’s blood run cold. The group of them crouching in the cramped metal crate froze, exchanging horrified looks.Someone was going back to space. And there was a good chance that Clarke and the others were on that transport.A sick feeling bloomed in the pit of Bellamy’s stomach. Clarke’s position was already so precarious – literally hinging on whether or not no one guessed she was an impersonator. And even if she pulled it off – when were they coming back? What if she got caught in the inevitable conflict up in space? And what about the others with her, if there were others? If they were all still alive?He’d just gotten her back.He wasn’t ready for this again. One on the ground, one in space.That wasn’t how it was supposed to be.------canon divergent season 6 finale one-shot in which Clarke gives up and Bellamy fights for her.cw: character death; suicidal ideation; depictions of violence





	a beam in darkness: let it grow.

**A beam in darkness: let it grow.**

_Be near me when my light is low,_

_When the blood creeps, and the nerves prick_

_And tingle ; and the heart is sick,_

_And all the wheels of being slow._

\- Alfred Tennyson, _In Memoriam_

…

The sound of a ship taking off made Bellamy’s blood run cold. The group of them crouching in the cramped metal crate froze, exchanging horrified looks.

Someone was going back to space. And there was a good chance that Clarke and the others were on that transport.

A sick feeling bloomed in the pit of Bellamy’s stomach. Clarke’s position was already so precarious – literally hinging on whether or not no one guessed she was an impersonator. And even if she pulled it off – when were they coming back? What if she got caught in the inevitable conflict up in space? And what about the others with her, if there were others? If they were all still alive?

He’d just gotten her back.

He wasn’t ready for this again. One on the ground, one in space.

That wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

He clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into the soft skin of his palms. He wanted to scream. He wanted to rest. He didn’t want anyone else to die.

“Hey,” Echo’s voice rasped next to him. He looked up to see her crouching beside him, slowly lowering herself to sit hip-to-hip by him on the dirty floor.

“We’ll make it through this,” she reassured him, her hand rubbing his forearm. “We always do.”

“But it’s never _all _of us that make it, is it?” Bellamy replied bitterly, running a hand down his face.

“Clarke knows what she’s doing. She’s smart.” Echo’s voice was cool, neutral. Bellamy wasn’t sure if he detected any jealous undertones in her words or not.

Because she had reason to be. And Bellamy hated himself for it.

Right now was a really, _really_ bad time to do this. But he had to.

He’d tried so hard to make it work. He felt like he owed it to a person who’d stuck by him for over three years now. With someone he’d known for over half a decade.

But the truth is, he’d only talked himself into finding love again because he thought he’d lost _her _forever. He thought he’d left her to go up in flames. He used to have nightmares of watching her turn to ashes, lost on the wind.

He’d never really forgiven himself for it. But it had been hard to live with alone.

Echo comforted him. He’d loved her, even. But never enough to erase the shadow that Clarke had left on his heart.

Bellamy wasn’t sure that he even deserved happiness anymore, but he realized that he was too selfish now to keep pushing it away.

And he couldn’t reach for that happiness if he was still with another person.

Even now, he still might never see Clarke again. But that wasn’t what mattered right now, not in this specific situation.

What mattered is that he couldn’t keep being unfair to Echo.

Bellamy’s jaw worked. He didn’t know what exactly he was going to say. He just knew that he had to say it.

“Echo,” he said suddenly, exhaustion breaking his voice. He kept his tone low enough so that the others couldn’t hear him over the din of chaos outside the walls.

He reached for her hand. “I know this isn’t a good time – at all – but there’s something you need to hear.” He took a deep breath, finding himself unable to meet her eye. “I can’t – I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

A beat passed, and he felt her hand withdraw from his.

“I know,” she said, her voice gravelly. “I’ve known for a while now.” A humorless laugh escaped her lips. “Something’s always been…not quite right with us, at the heart of things, hasn't it? Maybe we were only together by default. Trapped by time and space and limited options.”

Bellamy’s shoulders slumped in relief. He didn’t have it in him to fight.

“Besides,” Echo continued, looking away from him. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

Bellamy sniffed, suddenly uncomfortable again.

He didn’t know how to apologize for being in love with someone to the person he was _supposed_ to be in love with.

“Echo, I’m-”

She put up a hand to stop him. “It’s okay, Bellamy. Your heart leads you wherever it leads you.” Echo shifted, tucking her hair back over her shoulder. “And I think we’ve all been through too much now to deny our hearts much of anything.”

Bellamy sighed. He didn’t feel like he should be let off the hook this easily, but he wasn’t going to try and make anything harder than it already was.

He reached over to her knee, squeezing it one last time.

. . .

“Josephine, Simone, hold your fire,” Russell commanded at Clarke’s side, alarmed at the sight of so many weapons being leveled at him.

Indra’s eyes darted across the scene in front of her.

“Abby, what are you doing?” Her eyes lingered on the gun Abby’s body was holding to Raven’s head.

“Abby is gone,” Simone said in a cool tone, narrowing her eyes. “This is my body now. Now lower your weapon, or I’ll put a bullet in this one’s brain.”

Clarke’s heart thudded wildly in her chest. There were so many layers of disaster going on here, and her mind was scrambling on how to get out of them.

“These bodies may be those of who you once knew,” Russell spoke up again, “But those people are no longer in them. They are lost to you.” He nodded to Simone. “This body now hosts the mind of my wife.” He nodded to Clarke. “And this, of my daughter. I know you might be angry about this, but please try to understand that we ultimately come here in peace.”

Clarke saw the disbelief and anger growing on the faces of the army in front of her. This was about to get really messy, really fast.

“It doesn’t look that way,” Indra spit out, raising her weapon higher.

Suddenly, Raven ripped her gag from her mouth with her manacled hands.

“Shoot her,” she commanded hollowly to Indra, angry tears running down her face.

Before anyone else could react, Indra did, following Raven’s order.

Bile rose in Clarke’s throat as she watched blood seep from the chest of her mother’s body, Simone wordlessly falling to the floor. Her eyes went glassy, blood leaking from her mouth. Indra was an efficient killer.

This was the second time Clarke had experienced the death of her mother today.

She bit down on her tongue so hard that she tasted coppery blood in her mouth.

Russell’s face flushed purple, the gun in his hand shaking as he remained standing behind Madi.

Too late, Clarke recognized the look on his face.

“You don’t play nice? Then neither will we,” he barked, slamming the button to open the door behind him and firing his pistol into the back of Madi’s head.

Clarke’s knees gave out from under her as she collapsed to the floor, her gun falling from her hand.

Maybe she was hallucinating again. So much of the last few weeks hadn’t been what they seemed.

Maybe this wasn’t real either.

Not real.

Not real.

Before anyone could move, Russell dragged Madi’s body backward, tossing her into the airlock and quickly pressing the button again.

Clarke screamed, lunging forward. Too late. Always too late.

Muffled in her ears were the sounds of others shouting, too. Clarke’s hands landed in the pool of blood on the floor – Abby’s mixed with Madi’s. Her mother's mixed with her child's. Another gunshot rang out somewhere above her.

Too late again.

Russell had pushed the button to open the outer door of the airlock before Niylah had shot him in the heart.

Madi’s body wasn’t on the other side of that door anymore.

There was no Madi’s body anymore.

Russell thudded to the ground next to her, his eyes motionless and unseeing.

Clarke, heaving, wished the same for herself.

By now, no one left on the ship thought that Clarke was still Josephine.

They laid down their arms.

“Clarke,” Raven sobbed, next to her. “Clarke, get up.” Clarke barely heard her for the ringing in her ears.

Raven’s hands pushed against her shoulders, up away from the ground. Shaking, Clarke stared down at her hands. Absolutely drenched in dark, inky blood.

The blood of the last of her family.

_No, not the last,_ a faint, faltering whisper in her heart told her.

“Clarke, you’re in shock,” Niylah told her, suddenly there within the commotion around her. “You need to get up.”

From another side, Gaia shook her shoulder. Clarke felt teardrops falling on the rough fabric of her coat.

“We need to go back down there, Clarke.”

Clarke’s vision was going in and out of focus. She didn’t care what they did. She didn’t care about anything right now.

“Clarke, what was your plan for Sanctum after this?” Raven asked, her voice still thick with tears.

A sliver of irritation scraped at Clarke’s insides. What did Raven care what Clarke wanted to do? Raven hated Clarke’s decision-making. Raven _blamed_ Clarke’s decision-making. Why was she asking now?

Clarke finally lifted her head, staring blankly up at the people standing around her.

She had nothing left to say.

Gaia, her cheeks shining with tear tracks, seemed to realize this first.

“I’ll fly us back down,” she said. “We need to take as many fighters down with us as we can if we want to make it through the affected citizens and get back to the others. The toxin should have evaporated by now, but that doesn’t mean people still won’t be under its influence.”

Motions blurred around Clarke as she found herself ushered back to the transport ship. She was surrounded on all sides with both members of the army and the people she’d just come up here with.

But not all of them.

“Float the other two bodies as well,” she thought she’d heard Indra say.

That was fine. She didn’t want to look at any more death. She knew there would be even more of it to see back on the ground.

Always so much death.

Even when she wasn’t commanding it, she couldn’t escape it.

She could escape it, it seemed, only by joining it.

She was glad she’d collected her pistol from the ground before she’d been sent back to the transport.

Clarke didn’t want any more of her people to die. But she couldn’t find anything left inside herself to try and fight.

There was no one else left, on earth or in space, that she truly belonged to.

Bellamy had Echo.

Spacekru had made it clear how little she mattered to them a long time ago. The condemnation, the betrayal – no matter how many times she’d fought to save them, she’d _sacrificed _to save them – it felt like they simply saw her now as an old, worn out doll. A broken one, only taken off the shelf and noticed when she could serve some kind of utilitarian purpose.

And maybe that really was all she was good for.

She’d failed so many others.

Hurt built up like pressure in her chest, in her stomach, in her eyes, in her brain. It was too much. This was all too much.

With a shuddering breath, she burst into tears, drawing the attention of everyone else in the transport.

She was too exhausted to feel embarrassment. Only pain.

She couldn’t get air into her lungs. She wheezed, sobs wracking her body violently. Everyone around her avoided her eyes.

They understood. But they didn’t move to offer her any comfort.

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t sure anyone could.

She felt the ship prepare to land.

She wasn’t going to fight anymore.

When everyone else began to disembark, Clarke didn’t move. No one said anything to her as they left her, slumped against the ship wall.

. . .

Bellamy thought he would explode with worry by the time the doors to their crate opened.

“Thought you’d be in here,” Gabriel shouted into the metal shipping container that held them all. Behind him stood Murphy and Emori, looking a little worse for wear.

“Sorry it took so long,” Emori’s voice rang out. “We couldn’t cross the courtyard until the crowd had…thinned itself out a little bit.”

“What happened? We heard a ship taking off,” Octavia asked frantically, leaping to her feet. Her nerves were shot, too.

“It’s back. They’re out there fighting against those affected by the toxin.” Octavia’s eyes widened. “They’re not aiming to kill,” Emori jumped in, seeing her face. “Just wound. To be honest, everyone already fighting each other knocked out a lot of the work.”

“Where’s Clarke?” Bellamy’s lips moved before his mind caught up with what he was saying.

Murphy ducked his head self-consciously. “We haven’t seen her. Or Madi. We know they both got on the ship, but after that, no idea.”

“They killed Abby,” Gabriel interrupted, looking at Bellamy. “She realized it just before they got on the ship. She still held her cover.”

A pang coursed through Bellamy’s chest. Another person that Clarke loved, lost.

He had to find her and Madi. Now.

“Go, Octavia said behind him suddenly. “Find them. We’ll be fine.” The others around her nodded. Bellamy met his sister’s gaze. He thought he recognized the girl who she used to be somewhere in those eyes. But he wasn’t sure if that was possible anymore.

He hoped it was.

He hoped they could get past this one day.

But for now, he had to find the rest of his family.

. . .

Bellamy skirted the courtyard, crouching and running from shadow to shadow.

He wasn’t there to fight.

He searched the crowd hungrily for Clarke’s wavy, silver-gold hair. She wasn’t anywhere.

Up the spiral stairs and near the stained glass, he recognized a familiar silhouette wavering in the shadows.

Raven.

Bellamy hoped that she would know something.

Circling the perimeter, he darted up the stairs, stopping only to sucker-punch one rogue fighter who’d come barreling toward him.

“Raven,” he hissed, slipping into the darkness beside her.

Raven jumped. “God, you scared me,” she muttered, slinging one arm around his neck in a quick hug.

Pulling back, Bellamy noticed the puffiness around her eyes. The red skin shining where she’d rubbed tears away.

His insides plummeted.

“Where are Clarke and Madi?” He asked urgently, shuffling from one foot to the other.

Raven’s dark eyes bored into his, something like a sickness in them.

“Madi’s dead, Bellamy.” Raven’s voice scratched in her throat. “Russell killed her. He shot her in the head and floated the body. Right in front of all of us.” Raven wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. “Abby’s gone too.”

Bellamy’s gut twisted, turmoil shooting through his veins. Madi was gone. Shot to death right in front of Clarke’s eyes.

But Raven hadn’t said anything about Clarke.

“Raven.”

Her eyes snapped back to his.

“_Where is Clarke?_”

Raven put her head in one of her hands. “She didn’t get up when the rest of us left the transport ship. I don’t think she had it in her.”

Bellamy’s sluggish heartbeat picked back up, racing toward a double-time pulse.

“She’s okay?”

Raven’s voice went flat. “She’s not hurt, Bellamy. But I don’t think she’s okay.”

“Then why didn’t anyone stay with her?” Bellamy ground out. “She shouldn’t be alone.” Not waiting for a response, he turned on his heel, racing inside.

Bellamy ran through the corridors, adrenaline pounding through every vein in his body.

You didn’t just leave someone alone after they’d watched their family die within hours of each other.

He slammed his fist into the button to open the transport bay doors, a frustrated growl bubbling up his throat as he willed it to go faster.

Finally, he saw the silver-golden head, tilted back against the wall of the transport.

It had the barrel of a gun held to it.

“_Clarke,”_ he shouted, hurtling toward her. “_STOP.”_

Her eyes, swollen and soaking wet, opened, searching for him.

He fell to his knees next to her, ripping the gun from her hand, yanking the clip out of it and throwing both across the room.

He felt like he might be sick.

He knelt in front of her, grabbing her face with both of his hands. Not letting her turn her head away.

He’d spent a lot of time protecting Clarke from people pointing a gun at her.

He never thought that one day, that person would be herself.

Clarke grabbed both of his wrists, pulling them away from her. She fell forward onto her hands and knees, hyperventilating.

The scream that ripped from her throat and pierced the air ripped through him, too.

As tears welled in his eyes, he noticed that Clarke’s hands were coated with dried, black blood.

It wasn’t hers.

“Clarke,” he said again, his voice sticking in his throat.

Weeping, she turned her head toward him. She’d screamed so hard that blood vessels had broken in the whites of her eyes.

Bellamy pulled her into his chest, and this time she let him, her whole body shaking as she sobbed. He held her tight – maybe too tight – his heart slamming against his ribcage with terror.

Clarke had almost killed herself.

He wished that, in holding her like this, he could absorb pain that had become too much for just one body.

“I want to die,” she whimpered, her voice gasping, full of tears and not enough oxygen.

“Don’t say that,” Bellamy whispered into her hair, crying. “No. No. No. No,” her murmured over and over.

“I’ve done so many terrible things,” she cried. “And everyone I love – I keep losing them and _losing_ them and I-” her voice trembled, cracking. “I don’t want to ruin things anymore. I don’t want to _hurt_ anymore.”

“I’m not losing you again,” he choked out, his body shaking now too. “I need you, Clarke.” He repeated what he’d told her a few days ago, knowing that she probably didn’t hear him the first time. “Other people need you.”

“Those are lies,” she wheezed, pushing away from him. “You survived without me for 6 years. You and everyone else in space. Madi needed me. And Madi is _gone,_” she shuddered. “No one needs me anymore. No one wants me.”

“That’s not true,” Bellamy insisted, grabbing her upper arms. “Look at me, Clarke. Don’t think that a single hour of a single day went by up on the Ark where I wouldn’t have given anything to have you up there with me.” Clarke gazed back up at him, her eyes glazed with thick tears.

“And just because I survived doesn’t mean I didn’t need you. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want you.”

Clarke squinted up at him, a tremor in her chin. “You had Echo. You _have _Echo.” Clarke wrung her hands. “I don’t have anyone left.”

“Bullshit,” Bellamy spat out. “I don’t know if you noticed, Clarke, but Echo isn’t the one I abandoned everyone else for and literally brought back to life with my bare hands. Not to mention, she and I just ended things tonight.” Seeing tears stream down her face, his heart thumped sickeningly against his ribcage again. “Clarke,” he continued, softening his voice. “You called me on the radio every day for 6 years, then left me in the fighting pits to die. If someone isn’t needed or wanted anymore, it’s pretty obvious that it’s me.”

Clarke’s tears began to flow fast again. “And that was the worst mistake of my life. And I’m sorry.” She sucked in another gulp of hair, her lungs rattling. “So many mistakes. I don’t deserve to live anymore.”

“You can’t say that, Clarke,” Bellamy panicked. He reached for her hands, lacing his fingers through hers. “None of us is innocent. But you’ve _saved_ us all so many times. Not just us, but hundreds of others. People you don’t even know.”

“And how many have I lost? How many have I gotten killed? How many have _I _killed?”

“It’s never been easy, Clarke. But you deserve to _live._ All of us do.”

Clarke bowed her head. “I just don’t want to anymore,” she whispered faintly. Slowly, she met his gaze. Staring listlessly back up at him. Confusion welled up in Bellamy. What was-?

Quick as lightning, Clarke ripped the knife that Bellamy had strapped to his belt from its holster.

She was fast, but Bellamy was faster.

“I won’t let you,” he shouted, knocking it out of her hand. Letting out a wail, Clarke scrambled on her hands and knees toward it, the handle spinning on the cold metal floor.

Grabbing her from behind, Bellamy wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her back flush against him as she tried to break free, wriggling and clawing. After a moment, the fight seemed to leave her body like a puff of smoke, and she went limp in his arms.

She began to cry again, brokenly, as she tucked her face against his throat.

“Shh, shh,” he soothed. “I’m here, I’ve got you,” He murmured in her ear, his own tears still dripping down his nose.

“I know it’s hard, Clarke. I know.” He kissed the side of her head. He felt a little heartsick himself. “And I know that-” his voice cracked. “I know that you don’t want to go on right now, but I want you to, okay?” Bellamy lowered them down, leaning back against the wall as she sank down between his knees.

“I want you to. So can you try, for me?” After a long pause, Bellamy felt a slight nod of her head rustle against his sweater. Bellamy’s shoulders shook as he exhaled. “I know it’s selfish of me, but I want you here. So please, do it for me if you can’t do it for yourself. You’ve always been good at putting others before yourself,” he added, trying and failing to smile.

“You don’t have to save the world tonight, Clarke. We can just stay here. I think you’ve earned a time-out. I think you earned one a long time ago.”

Slowly, Clarke’s sobs grew quiet as she leaned against his chest. Bellamy stroked the waves of her short hair, keeping his touch-feather light. Hoping she would sleep.

When she finally dozed off, Bellamy let loose of the tears that were still welling in his eyes, crying more freely when he knew she wouldn’t see.

. . .

None of the rest of their people died that night. As the fighting finally subsided, Gabriel gathered them all, saying something that managed to broker tentative peace between those who believed and those who did not.

As a new leader, Gabriel offered the people from space a place in the compound, but none of them took it. They were too scarred by all that had happened there. So Gabriel sent them off into the woods, armed with essentials and an emergency supply of anti-toxin that would last them long enough for Raven to figure out the eclipse pattern. They were offered the shelter of Sanctum any time the rare occurrence might approach.

And so, loaded down with supplies, the people from space marched into the woods, ready to build yet another home for themselves amongst the trees.

Everyone except Octavia.

She’d elected to stay with Gabriel. To help him figure out how to keep peace in the new Sanctum. To help him know what _not_ to do. She hoped that this could be her redemption song.

At the last minute, Echo chose to stay with her.

Bellamy had hugged Octavia goodbye wordlessly. He understood the decision she was making. In his heart, he knew they still needed to talk, but it wasn’t time yet. Besides, they would have days and months and years to come where they could talk. For the first time in forever, they weren’t separated by danger or insurmountable distance. There was finally time to heal.

Days after they’d begun to build shelter for themselves in the forest, Jordan and Diyoza stumbled out of the anomaly, shellshocked but unharmed. They did not speak of what had happened. Perhaps they would tell everyone what had happened someday. Perhaps they never would.

As they had set out into the forest, Bellamy, noticing Clarke lagging behind near the back of the group, slowed his pace, waiting until he was beside her to wrap her hand in his. She turned her eyes to his, hers still leaking sorrow and grief. It would take her time to heal, too. But at least she was here beside him, falling in step with him toward the future.

Something inside of Bellamy pulled at him, telling him to look back.

He did.

Octavia was still standing at the edge of the trees, her eyes trained on Clarke and her brother. A kind, knowing smile graced her lips. She gave him a gentle nod before finally turning to walk away.

. . .

They all stayed in tents as the group in the forest began to build more permanent dwellings.

Clarke knew she should try to help, but at first, she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but sit at the mouth of the tent, gazing with tired eyes as cabins began to materialize, bit by bit, in the clearing in front of her.

Most days, she felt like a ghost, invisible to everyone else in the camp. Everybody but one.

Bellamy never left her alone for too long.

When thoughts crowded her head, dark like storm clouds, Bellamy would stop by the tent, begging her childishly for a snack, for some advice, for a sip of water.

When her fingers, serving her darkest thoughts, reached for a knife, Bellamy gently took it from her, kissing her forehead silently.

They shared a tent.

Most nights, Clarke’s pillow was abandoned for the warmth of Bellamy’s chest.

Some days, she didn’t want to be here. Or anywhere.

But somehow, Bellamy would remind her of how much he wanted her to be.

And most days, that was enough.

. . .

After a few supply runs back to Sanctum, the cabins went up surprisingly fast. As everyone labored, Clarke mostly watched, often disappearing for an hour or two to gather medicinal plants from the forest that didn’t carry the anti-toxin.

Sometimes Raven offered to help her dry and sort what she’d brought back, but Clarke always politely made an excuse. She wasn’t sure she was ready to work on healing the rift that had come between them quite yet.

She never really thought about where she would live as everyone built the place up.

One of the barracks, maybe.

She would miss the warmth of Bellamy’s body beside hers as she slept each night.

“Do you wanna see the finished cabin?” Bellamy asked her one day, tucking a wildflower behind her ear.

“Sure. Give me the grand tour,” she said mildly, humoring him. She could tell he was actually quite proud of his handiwork.

She didn’t realize how much work Bellamy had put into the place until she saw it inside. Apparently he’d managed to swing a stove and oven from the compound that someone was going to throw out, and he’d gotten Raven to fix it back into working order for him. A roughly-hewn wooden table and chairs sat near it, and a low, wide bedframe was tucked into the corner, bedecked with two white pillows and a ragged-looking quilt. He’d even rigged up a bathroom complete with a small shower – the group had collectively decided they weren’t going to live without a plumbing system ever again, and had fashioned one with some old pipes given to them by the compound and a nearby well that they’d dug.

“One more thing,” he said, gently taking her hand and leading her out the back door.

Her hand felt empty nowadays if it wasn’t holding his.

He led her around to a tiny shack, built up against the back of the cabin, far away from the chimney. As he opened the slim, creaky door, Clarke saw that the inside of it was fitted with shelves, and that the shelves were lined with small wooden boxes.

“I thought you could use it as apothecary storage,” he said quietly, ducking his head in shyness.

Warmth in Clarke’s chest bloomed. She smiled up at him, leaning down to drop a quick kiss on his shoulder.

“You thought of something that even I didn’t,” she said gratefully, touched at the gesture. “Too bad it’s not big enough to sleep in, though.”

Bellamy took a step back from her, frowning. “Wait, what?” He tilted his head, hands resting on his hips.

“I mean, too bad I can’t sleep in here instead of the barracks,” Clarke clarified, squinting up into the cool winter sunlight.

Bellamy’s brow furrowed, his mouth opening silently then closing again. Wordlessly, he grabbed her hand, leading her back inside. As she approached the center of the room, he stepped behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“This is your home too, Clarke,” he said gently, his lips grazing the curve of her ear. “I can’t believe you’d ever think anything else.”

The warmth that had blossomed in Clarke’s chest outside grew, trickling into her cheeks and spreading down to her fingertips.

She turned to face him, her chin tilted upward.

Lifting her hands to his neck, she tugged him down to her, pressing her lips to his. His soft, full lips instantly warmed to hers, and his hands ran down her sides, stopping to circle at her waist and pull her in closer.

Adrenaline thrummed through Clarke’s veins for a happy reason for the first time in a very, very long time.

When she pulled back to catch her breath, his lips chased hers, hungry, yearning to make up for years of lost time. He stole the breath from her that he’d breathed into her unresponsive lungs all those weeks ago, forcing life into her because he wasn’t ready to let her go.

Feeling her gasp into his mouth, he broke away, giving her air as his lips kissed across her cheek, beneath her jaw, down her neck.

Her heart threatened to burst through her ribcage.

“Bellamy,” she said suddenly, reaching down to hold his face in her hands and dragging him back up to her eye level.

“You’ve always been wanted,” she whispered, her heart in her throat. “Even when I didn’t know it. It was always going to be you.” Tears threatened to spill over as she thought of all that he’d said, all that he’d done for her, thinking that he might not matter to her the same way. “I’ve always needed you. I’ve always wanted you. Please never forget that.” She leaned forward, kissing the underside of his jaw.

“Clarke.” His deep voice rumbled in his chest against her, stopping her. It was his turn to hold her face in both hands, his soft brown eyes searching hers. “I love you. _So_ much,” he confessed, the words falling from his lips like honey Clarke wanted to taste. “More than anything. I always thought you knew.”

Tears finally tipped from the corners of her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. Standing up on tiptoes, she kissed him again, smiling against his lips.

Maybe a part of her did always know.

Just, for the longest time, she never thought she’d ever get to hear it.

But now, she was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if I screwed up some details with the settings or side characters! Season 5 upset me so bad I didn't watch the back half of it or the first half of season 6, so some of my knowledge might be lacking.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> Also, watch this space soon for a novel-length Bellarke White House AU! I'm writing the whole thing before I publish it :)


End file.
